


Black Box

by inkwellAnomaly



Category: Evillious Chronicles
Genre: F/M, Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-12 18:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12966150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkwellAnomaly/pseuds/inkwellAnomaly
Summary: When you open a Black Box, you get so many stories. You peer into its archives, and the tales come bursting out, like computer files or books or movies.This is my compilation of Evillious Chronicles poetry, meant as Christmas gifts for my friends. I hope you all enjoy.





	1. Court

A black box with straight gridlines.  
Underneath the sea,  
Or perhaps in the mind of the goddess,  
There exists  
The place of Judgment.

In this final trial,  
Everything is reset to be equal  
All is fair, but not all is just  
For this is a verdict of corruption

The gavel drops, and  
The Master appears.  
Madame Merry-Go-Round, her twin,  
Asks her to summon the court  
And, in this final judgment,  
With the twin gods  
And a demon lying in wait,  
The mad mage wields her blue fire.  
The Duel must continue


	2. Do-Over

I am the Sleep Princess.  
I am the Sleep Princess.  
I am the Sleep Princess.

And I am waiting for my Prince.

The prince from across the sea,  
Oh how I yearn to be in his arms.  
His heart calls, from within the clocktower  
And yet he is trapped as one of the gears.

Is it possible to reset?  
For us to go back to the beginning?  
Let’s go back to our favorite, Held’s Forest  
Kiss me under the moonlight and stars  
In the southern sky  
Over and over and over  
Until my soul tires of your touch.

Our children, our dear sweet children,  
How I had wished my womb had bore them.  
Cain and Abel, or the stolen twins  
It doesn’t matter.  
Our children, our dear sweet children,  
How I’d love to make  
An apple pie for them

You’d slice it,  
Into four pieces  
And we’d sit around the table  
And eat it  
Like a normal family of four

Despite our brokenness,  
I’d like to live through it  
All  
Over  
Again


	3. Requiem

The Clockworker grieved.  
His sister and his beloved,  
Gone in one night.

As the man clothed in rags  
Settled underneath a fallen pillar,  
He thought: why had he decided  
To listen to the voice  
Of “Sin”? He had been  
Deceived, and an entire empire  
Had been brought to ruin.

He’s the only one there now.  
His sister and his beloved  
Both dead; he is   
The only survivor. 

How he had destroyed,  
When as a Clockworker  
He was meant to create.  
The golden spring,  
Wound tight and interlocking  
With the gears of fate,  
Suddenly became   
Covered in blood  
And snapped.

“If only magic didn’t exist,”  
He had wished.

Wished upon the stars,  
Wished upon the wreckage,  
Wished upon the dragon gods.

But, as a true Clockworker,  
He knows that gears   
Can’t be wound back.  
Lost time—  
It’s called that  
For a reason.


	4. Crossing Paths

That girl,  
Who had enjoyed  
A ten minutes’ love  
Had been enjoying it  
For over a year now.

Because of him,  
He of few words;  
He had said  
“I love you”

How did that happen?  
Well, it’s quite a tale  
A South North Story,  
In fact.

As the twins,  
The mirror images,  
The two girls  
Brought together by  
The gears of fate  
Crossed paths   
On an intersection  
Built on a whim,  
The former princess  
Had said to her,  
“We look alike,  
Why is that so?”

As the two  
Opened up,   
The girl had learned  
That her namesake,  
In the north, in the north,  
Had destroyed a country  
And lived many lives  
Before reuniting  
With her “counterpart”

For the girl, she knew  
That her “counterpart”  
Was the boy.  
She knew it deep  
In her heart.

And so as the two  
Walked home from the store,  
The last lights of sunset  
Reflecting off the puddles  
Left by the light rain,  
The boy kissed the girl

And that was that.


	5. Glass Half-Broken

I was waiting for you,  
My twin, my protector,   
My dutiful servant,  
My counterpart.  
Us, the twins   
Driven mad by fate,  
The golden keys  
To the world’s creation

I had waited for you,  
For so long.

The East, the East,  
I had died on the coast  
Calling your name  
As the tailor had left

The West, the West,  
I was raised in corruption  
A judge’s daughter  
I was handed over,  
And I was broken;  
By that despicable  
Monster of a playwright  
And yet, I resisted.

The theater, the theater  
Where I met her,  
The wicked maid,  
Who was not so wicked  
And gave me  
Her own body

I had a voice!  
I had a will, and so  
I decided to keep waiting

As the wrath of  
Punishment  
Came crashing down,  
And I died once again,  
I thought of you;  
I thought of how  
We still couldn’t meet.

I missed you at the party,  
Caught in my   
Age-old haughtiness  
Why must fate  
Separate us so?  
My twin, my twin,  
Why must we be apart?  
We’re mirror images,   
The two of us,  
Twin mirrors  
Forged from the same glass  
That I remade into  
A small, small bottle

Floating on the beach,  
It silently disappears  
Beyond the horizon  
With tears and just  
A little bit of regret

“If only I could be reborn,”  
A wish that did come true  
But we still weren’t twins.

And now, now that we’re together  
We’re grasping the key  
To a new world.  
Not that that doesn’t matter, but  
I’m really hoping that maybe,  
Just maybe  
We can be twins again.


	6. Existence

All she had wanted to do  
Was exist. From the beginning,  
She had wanted to prove that  
She was something, that she was  
Someone.

But she was nothing.

When she opened her eyes,  
She was inside a black box  
With gears surrounding her.  
Suddenly, all the memories  
Came flooding back  
Not her own memories, but  
That of everyone else.

She had no memories,  
For she was nothing.

All those words,  
Including “water” and “evil”,  
Were strung into a song

She was that song.

And so, with everything  
Melting and turning,  
She was sung across time,  
Across space,  
Across the universe.

She permeated existence.  
She was something.  
She was happy.

She was known as  
The Clockwork Lullaby


	7. Glass Half-Mended

I was your protector  
From the very beginning.

One day at the market,  
Father had told me to pick out a toy  
One toy, for the two of us.  
I picked out  
The princess doll in a glass bottle  
You’d get the doll, I’d get the bottle.

We were stuck in a Twiright prank  
By a gluttonous demon and a wicked hag  
You held my hand,  
And split the day and night between us  
Your hand felt as warm as the sunset.

The year before she died,  
Mother, gaunt from disease,  
Visited me at my new home.   
“Protect your sister”  
Her words were etched  
Deep into my heart

I became your servant,  
We were together again!  
The twins driven mad by fate,  
The mirror split into two,  
Was, in a way, whole.

And then the winds of revolution came  
And the boy had to make a choice  
His sister, or the world  
And ultimately, he chose his sister

I became a hero in the East,  
And a scholar of the gods,  
But I’m still  
Your little brother

Grasp this golden key with me  
As we set out to create a new world  
Hold my hand, just please  
Hold my hand  
And guide me with your warmth  
And even if we’re torn apart, I’m sure  
That we’ll always be twins  
No matter what


	8. Puppet

Come one, come all!  
Witness the carnival’s greatest attraction.  
Madame Merry-Go-Round!  
Queen of the amusement park, and  
Queen of the Glass  
A failure prophet  
And a sorceress cheated by fate

She was fated to go  
Back in a loop for many times over.  
“This karma of evil  
Has yet to continue,” so said  
The cosmic storyteller.  
For how many more times?  
For how many more times would she  
Have to suffer the loss of her children?  
Again and again and again

Madame Merry-Go-Round cries.  
She laughs and she cries  
Because, at the circus,  
One must be entertaining


	9. Memory

She had lived many lives,  
But this was the latest one.

A wrathful assassin,  
Who had killed six people  
With her own hand

What were her thoughts  
As she gazed upon the ruined world?  
She had set out to save it, and yet  
There were some memories  
She couldn’t let go.

A winter night.  
Her beloved would propose to her,  
With a small diamond ring,  
And she’d accept.

The old man, commenting on the cold  
As always, would go with them  
To the Christmas party.

Her parents would welcome her there,  
Along with her dear pet,  
And they’d all start eating.

Her father would complain  
About all the money being spent,  
And her mother would chide him  
For being so stingy.

Her comrade-in-arms would arrive,  
Slipping in the doorway  
And everyone would laugh.

More people would come and go:  
The general, the butler, the members  
Of the gang in her youth;  
And in the end, underneath the mistletoe

Her beloved would kiss her.

How she wanted to be  
In the warm embrace of his arms  
Instead of having to kill him  
With her last revolver

But the time for fantasies is over  
She now has to set out and save the world  
And yet, inside her own Black Box  
She keeps that fake, “lost” memory  
Burning


	10. Intersection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collab with my dear friend Lemmings.

Where did she go off to, I wonder?  
Who was “she”, I wonder?  
I’m searching for a person I don’t know at all  
To the north, to the north

  
Where did she come from, I wonder?  
Who was “I”, I wonder?  
I’m searching for a self I don’t know at all  
To the south, to the south

  
Hmm, I wonder if he  
Likes the cheesecake here?  
Gosh, I should open my Maps app.  
I’m getting hopelessly lost  
On this intersection  
Built on a whim

I wonder if  
My sins will ever be reconciled  
I walk the familiar streets of my mind  
And become hopelessly lost  
In this world of horror  
Built on a whim

Oh my gosh, Pablo’s!! I’ve seen  
So many people rave about it online  
I should get some! And post it on IG  
And then maybe, just maybe  
Maybe he’ll notice me!  
He is, after all, my  
Most special person

I remember, from far away,  
A familiar face that I’ve walked past before  
And a familiar name I’ve walked past before  
And maybe, just maybe  
He remembers me.  
He is, after all, my  
Most special person

Wait… Who is that?  
Who is that girl  
Who looks like me?  
Is that a ghost? My mirror image?  
A demon from a parallel world?  
Or is it… a god?

“Good day”  
“Nice to meet you”  
“How are you?”

She looks as me but if  
Purified  
As if an angel’s wings from heaven touched the earth  
And gave birth to a new life  
She shares my face  
But not my stories

“Evil”, and “water”, “wind” and “mother”  
Should I string them into a song?  
A song that heals, a  
Clockwork Lullaby?  
Since I was a child,  
I’ve been playing with the words  
Inside my head.  
I’m a student,  
But I’m also a writer  
And I can tell when  
A new story  
Is about to begin.

I am no writer  
Only a sinner  
Who has seen the world  
Through the eyes of a stranger.  
“Evil” and “water”, “wind” and “mother”  
I know these stories.  
Shall I tell them to you?

I can tell from her face,  
She has so many stories to tell  
Stories of a kingdom lost,  
Of a family cut apart like threads,  
Of a girl used like a puppet,  
Or perhaps a waitron.  
Let’s sit down and have some coffee.

Here, I have change  
For the vending machine.

The “vending machine” is a new story for me  
This world is a world of new stories  
The threads of them hum and vibrate  
Through me  
I want to know of this girl  
I want to know of her sorrows and her dreams  
She’s a writer and a singer and a lover

The only love I’ve ever known  
Is ten minutes every day.  
I’m no writer, I’m no singer  
All I know is  
Lu li la, lu li la  
I wonder if my song  
Is able to heal anyone’s heart?  
I take out my notebook  
And share my dreams and sorrows  
In the South, I was a student

In the North, I was a tyrant  
A breaker of hearts and  
A destroyer of dreams  
Is it fair to allow me to dream today?  
Perhaps that is all I can  
Do  
I sleep and I dream and I wait  
For a brighter tomorrow  
I want to know of this girl’s tomorrow

My tomorrow is bright!  
For the boy on the bus,  
Whom I want to meet,  
Will definitely be my boyfriend!  
He of few words  
Will one day say,  
“I love you”  
On the way home from shopping  
But this girl, I wonder  
What are her deepest sorrows?  
What are her greatest joys?

My tomorrow is in my yesterday  
I remember running on the beach with the one I loved  
And the next day, running from him  
Away from his unrelenting death  
I waited to see him  
For such a long time  
But the flames came over me before we could meet  
And I perished  
But before I did,  
I cast out to heaven a small, small bottle  
Filled with tears  
And a little bit of regret;  
So here I am today  
A corpse given life  
In order to see you  
In order to see you

In the end,  
As the twilight  
Was setting in,  
She gave me  
A small glass bottle;  
It was sacred, I could tell.  
I knew better than anyone  
That words had power  
And so she said  
“Open that  
When we part ways”  
And so we did.  
I opened the bottle.  
It said:

 

“Let’s meet again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this one!! Lemmings and I worked REALLY hard on this particular poem.


	11. Abandoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commissioned work for Discord user Haruki.

A dark, dark forest.  
With only the great Moon  
As our guiding light,  
We walked

The bright older sister  
Guiding the dim younger brother  
As the moon does   
With the sun

And so we walked,  
Guided by the light  
Streaming from  
Our small glass bottle  
Once filled with  
Our mother’s milk  
Until we arrived at

The witch’s house.


	12. At the Twilight

Sunsets:  
I collect their memories,  
Storing them in bottles  
Within my mind.

Each one is different;  
One had clouds  
As black as coughs  
From a smoker’s lungs;  
One had clouds  
As white and billowy  
As cotton candy  
Spun by Ariadne

Their colors  
Are something else  
One’s was somber,  
Like an old tree  
Ready to die,  
One’s was happy, like  
A saint’s laughter.

As the night begins  
And sets in the cold air,  
I feel like something  
Has died within me,  
Something was lost:  
The day  
But at least  
I watched it   
In its final moments.

I always tell myself,  
When you lose something  
Everyday,  
It prepares you  
Maybe even a little  
For all the greater things  
You are about to lose.

Sunsets:  
I collect their memories,  
Storing them in bottles  
Within my mind.


	13. Wordplay

In the beginning were the words. The words were with Her and the words were Her. In time, She strung them together in a song, a lullaby for the cosmos. A song that would go on to heal all of humanity, with their weary hearts and fickle minds.

She did not make the universe with her hands. She spoke it into existence, playing with the words. She wound them up and let them turn and melt into each other. She would always be restless, spending an eternity searching for the proper words to articulate what was in her heart of hearts.

She listened to her own lullaby as it resounded back to her. She listened to the songs humanity made to heal their own hearts. She listened, and she continued to sing.


	14. My evening star

Oh, my evening star  
Goddess of my dreams  
The princess of my sleep  
You who light up my night sky  
Let me offer my heart to you

The gears of fate have gone mad  
Tearing us worlds apart  
Wishes and regret,  
They strongly etch onto my mind

You who are worn out,  
Let me sing you a clockwork lullaby  
Hewn from words as they melt and turn  
The moving second hand sways  
Time slows down when I’m with you

I’ll protect you, this I vow  
To the heavens and the earth  
When the time comes  
That we do this all over again  
Come, let’s live together  
In that forest


End file.
